Only for Tonight
by Blue-Kool-Aid
Summary: When Damon breaks down and falls apart, Elena is there to catch him and put him back together again. Damon/Elena; takes place near the end of 2.12 - "The Descent"; one-shot. Please R&R.


Title: Only for Tonight  
>Rating: T<br>Type: One-shot  
>Pairing: DamonElena  
>Setting: Takes place during the DamonElena scene near the end of 2.12 – "The Descent" – and then goes AU. :)

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><p>Hi, guys! I actually wrote this one-shot a <em>long <em>time ago – in January, I think, after "The Descent" aired, but I just never got around to publishing it. :) I think it might be different from some of my other work – it's a bit stream-of-consciousness, but I hope you'll read and review. That makes my day!

Also, lately, I've been taking story ideas involving any of the following characters: Damon, Elena, Stefan, Katherine, and _any _pairing you can make from those four. Just let me know your idea in your review! I won't necessarily write it, but it might get some more creativity flowing!

Anyway – happy reading!

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><p>Only for Tonight<p>

_You are lovely tonight_  
><em>You, dear, will guide me into the morning light<em>  
><em>You are lovely tonight<em>  
><em>Lay here beside me - I see the rest of my life with you<em>

-Joshua Radin, "Lovely Tonight"

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><p>The most surprising thing about embracing Damon this time around, Elena decided, was that unlike last time, he was warm; she could feel the heat of his body seep through his clothes, and into her, warming a soul that had been so cold lately. In contrast to last time, they were inside the safety of the Salvatore home; before, they had been standing near a tomb which had ended up housing nearly thirty blood-thirsty revenge-driven vampires. It had been cold and he had been, too; fresh from heartbreak, as he had stood so still.<p>

This time, though, Elena felt every single one of his emotions, anger the most prominent of them because she had dared to reach out and touch him, had dared to close the distance. But she couldn't have just left, not with so much pain and sorrow lingering in the air. What kind of friend would she have been if she had done that? She knew that if the situation were reversed, that if she had been in Damon's shoes, he would have never left her alone to contemplate her misery. She knew this because of all the times he had saved her, even when she had been ungrateful and unresponsive.

Elena felt the stiffness of his body; felt how hard he was trying not to feel – she could feel how much he was resisting her. She didn't want to let him go; she wanted to keep her arms around him until she was sure that he was okay. But he could never be okay, at least not now - he was Damon and his issues ran far deeper than just this one particular day.

"Damon," she said softly. She could feel his body quivering slightly, but she wouldn't call him out on that. That's not what she wanted. "I know you want me to pull away from you, and I know you want to pull away from me, but we can't. I care about you and you need this; you need it so bad right now." She heard his sharp intake of breath, felt the tremor in his body. As soon as she'd seen him, she knew that he had been crying. He wasn't okay – and he was allowed to _not_ be okay. No one ever gave him the go-ahead to break down. They all expected him to remain strong, resilient, and feisty, and they had been selfish in expecting that of someone who had been through as much as they had.

Elena didn't want to pull completely away from him, for fear that he would run from her, but she had to look him in the eyes when she said her next words. She had to convey the sincerity of them, even if he didn't want to hear them. She leaned back slightly to look at him, and slid her arms down away from his neck so that she was still holding him.

Damon's ice blue eyes were wet – a few lone droplets had escaped, leaving barely-noticeable marks on his slightly flushed cheeks. He was looking straight at her though, trying to cut her down, but she wouldn't let him because the moment she did, he would just revert back to hiding.

And this was the most raw he had ever been in front of her. She could see the slight quiver in his lip and _God_, it hurt her so much to see him so broken. She knew it wasn't necessarily her job to save him, and she knew, like her own self, that he didn't really _want _to be saved. But she wouldn't let him bear his burden alone – not tonight, not ever.

"Damon," Elena said, his name falling so gently from her lips again, "someone needs to tell you that it's _okay _to hurt like this, to feel helpless. It's _okay _but you can't give up; please, don't give up. You were right – I was being hypocritical earlier, but we all look for the easy way out, don't we? I swear, Damon, if you fight, I'll fight, too. We can fight _together_." She was trying so hard to reach him.

Elena felt him stiffen under her fingertips, saw his face go blank for a second, so she wrapped her arms around him again and, treading carefully, she began to stroke his hair. "Has anyone ever just held you, Damon?" she whispered. "I can't take away your pain, but I can touch you without violence or lust; I can simply touch you in the purest and simplest way possible to ease the ache in your heart. You give so much and no one can see it but I do. Please know this, Damon: I care about you and I care about your feelings. Now, please, even if you don't _want _me to, let me hold you, because you _need _me to."

Elena was fearful that he was going to push her away, but instead, she felt the exhale of his breath and heard the small, quiet sob in the back of his throat as he finally – _finally _– wrapped his own arms around her.

She felt him tremble as he buried his face in her neck. His silent tears burned her skin yet cleansed her as they fell soundlessly onto her. She gently lowered them to the ground, him still in her arms. She pressed him against her - her arms around his shoulders, and his arms loosely around her waist.

Elena leaned against the wall, gripping Damon tightly, stroking his raven hair. She made a vow to never hurt this man again – he didn't deserve it. He didn't deserve any of the terrible things that life had thrown at him. What he did deserve was a good, solid friend, and Elena vowed to be that, even at the worst of times – like now. It was definitely one of the worst of times.

She started as a realization hit her, as these things moved through her brain, slowly and languidly at first, and then gradually picked up speed.

She _loved_ him.

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><p>Damon hadn't been sure what to make of her arms around him, but bit by bit, she had chipped away at him until he was finally sinking and giving in. It felt so good to just <em>give in <em>to her, to unleash all of his hidden pain and suffering.

No one had ever held him like this, not without the intent to afterwards inflict pain or force him to give in to desires which he wasn't even sure he wanted to give in to. He liked the feel of Elena's hand on his skin; it was a physical reminder that he did have feeling, even if he didn't want to feel it.

"You're safe with me," he heard Elena tell him, brushing her hand softly over his cheek. "I will keep you as safe as is humanly possible."

Puzzlement poked its way through his grief momentarily. Safe? Elena was going to keep him safe? A bitter smile tightened his cheeks. The girl he loved, the one who didn't love him back, was putting her life on the line to keep _him_ safe? It sounded outrageous. Why should she care about his safety?

She shouldn't, he decided, but he realized that he _did _feel safe with her arms around her. He knew that, in reality, she was human, and that was the one weakness that could very well get her killed – that safety was a fleeting thing. But he hadn't ever felt quite like this. His head was on her chest now and he heard the slow, steady beat of her heart.

He missed it. He missed humanity so much and it was his own fault that he had lost it. Rose had been right – there is _always_ a choice, and he had made the wrong one. He had continued to make the wrong choices for over one hundred and forty five years. It was his secret; he missed being human and he missed it more than anything in the world. His humanity had been stolen and no one could return it to him.

Except Elena - in the metaphorical sense, of course. She alone was capable of returning that which was lost to him. He could feel the tears again, just sliding down his face. He hated it. He hated crying and he hadn't done it in so long.

He relaxed against her, finally beginning to calm down, as he closed his eyes. He would allow himself time to grieve in the arms of the girl he loved, but only for tonight.

_Fin_


End file.
